Three Words and an Ocean Apart
by Generalpandathefourth
Summary: She long since stopped rolling her eyes at herself, instead she embraced the ache in her chest, the way her throat felt like someone ran a rake down it, the hollowness that followed when she tuned out for the night. It was a great release to just let emotions fly without a care in the word.
Her vision was blurry, red and prickling with the tears she couldn't seem to contain. It'd been a long week, hell it'd been a long ( _long_ ) year, and Gail was tired.

She was exhausted in every sense of the word. She'd thrown herself into work, picking up more shifts -later shifts-, staying long after to make sure all paperwork was fully completed properly and ditching all offers to go out with her friends. Some still looked at her and saw her name, saw Peck etched into her chest, the tainted name. Gail continued to get stares, whispers in the halls and on crime scenes, it'd been a year and the gossip had yet to grow stale. One would think it'd die out in a year, at least in the division she walked into every day. But there were new rookies, a fresh batch of wide eyed kids looking to be heroes, so of course they'd need to be told the stories of the dirty cops -the name that once was royal turned red in the very building they called a second home.

And when she had pauses in her day, when work was dull or she laid awake in bed, Gail couldn't stop the wondering thoughts. The wonders of what Sophie was up to, if the girl was happy, if she'd found new friends and had started to accept the Rogers as her family. Gail wondered if she shared her sweet smile more willingly with the world she'd been so open to. But she'd shut those thoughts out once they grew to impinging what life she'd have if Sophie were hers.

Other times her brain would go to Holly. Gail would wonder how hard the brunette was working, if she remembered to eat that meal or if she'd passed out with her glasses on again. She'd think of her crooked smile and the twinkle behind dark rimmed glasses, she'd remember the taste of sweet coffee and warm fingers on her cheeks, of laughter and the rush of such a lovely sound. And on the days Gail hurt the most, on the days she felt particularly self loathing, she'd watch the things they used to watch together. Like Grey's Anatomy.

It was the worst of all things that reminded her of the pathologist, a show about hot doctors. They'd binged a lot of it one weekend. Holly had been sick, curled up in bed for days, and Gail -in an attempt to be a good girlfriend- had stayed with her, Holly's only wish was to watch Grey's. And so they did, all weekend they cuddled and watched Grey's. Gail hadn't admitted it, but she really liked the show. But when Holly left she couldn't even hear the name without growing sick. Until a few months ago and she'd found it to be the perfect misery, perfect for weekends to soak in her pain and allow herself to _feel_. At least it was more healthy then her usual ways of dealing, a way that didn't involve drinking herself into a coma or draining her savings on running off to foreign soil.

Gail wiped at the tears with the back of her sleeve, using the same spot to also wipe at her running nose. She long since stopped rolling her eyes at herself, instead she embraced the ache in her chest, the way her throat felt like someone ran a rake down it, the hollowness that followed when she tuned out for the night. It was a great release to just let emotions fly without a care in the world.

But tonight was new. It wasn't for herself that she cried. It wasn't for a life lost or a life with no light. It wasn't in self pity or hatred. It was for lives lost. Lives that technically didn't exist, characters in a TV show, but none of that mattered. Real or not it hurt to loose someone you'd grown attached to.

"I want you to promise me something." Mark began, voice gruff and worn but steeled in a way that carried the weight of the importance for what was to follow. It felt as if it was her he was addressing and not an obviously distraught Avery. "If you love someone you tell 'em."

Holly flashed into her head. A warm bed with soft sheets, tangled limbs and an adoring look. Her heart ached for something completely different but not at all new.

"Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing." Mark brought her back. "Even if you're scared that it will cause problems -even if you're scared it will _burn your life to the ground. You say it, and you say it loud_." He spoke with such passion, such certainty and conviction. He knew. He knew what it was like to love someone, to have blown your chance and worried until it was to late to say sorry, to have someone you didn't get to say those three little words to. Mark knew just like Gail did. "And then you go from there."

"Gail?" It was breathless, not a question more of a disbelief. She didn't look displeased though, that was the first thing Gail looked for, Holly was more astounded than anything else.

"Hey, Lunchbox." Gail managed through a pounding heart and aching lungs.


End file.
